For Ellie: The Ghost Hunt
by WiddleWombat
Summary: Written as a Christmas Gift for WhiteWolfLegend, For Ellie: The Ghost Hunt is set in the Australian Outback where rival ghost hunters, Bella and Garrett, become stuck together in a haunted place. Rated T for supernatural themes and light romance. (A/H except for ghosts; Non canon; HEA; One Shot; Complete)


**A Christmas Present for Ellie (WhiteWolfLegend) from Mon (WiddleWombat) and beta'd by Laurie Whitlock. Ellie made her own banner because, well, it came from her imagination in the first place :)**

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**PROMPTS (chosen ones in bold):**

Non-canon, Paul/Bella, Sam/Bella, Jasper/Bella, Peter/Bella, Rosalie/Bella, Rosalie/Kate, Alistair/Bella, **Garrett/Bella**. Pretty much any male with Bella as a lead, Rose/Emmett.

#1 - The world is on the verge of destruction, your couple is part of the team who helps save it.

#2 - Couple meet at a comic con due to mistaken identity.

**#3 - Couple are rival ghost hunters and are stuck in a haunted place.**

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**SUPPORTING INFORMATION:**

Finke is an actual Australian town in the south east NT originally built to repair the original Ghan railway after floods. The Ghan has since been rebuilt away from the town but the township still exists and is a dry camp. More information can be found at outbacksecrets/dot/com/finke.

The aboriginal healer spirit in this story actually does exist. However he is known to appear to Soul Healers where they work (doesn't need to be sought out) and while he lived in Central Australia a few years ago when he went missing, he most likely did not live near Finke. For more information on Soul Healers, see simonhay/dot/com. On his home page of his website he is demonstrating healing on someone, and that someone is me. True story. You can only see my belly though.

All historical events mentioned in this story are completely fictional.

"Swag" is similar to a sleeping bag only more sophisticated. They are usually weather proof with a thin mattress inside and very common camping bedding.

"Walkabout" is a term used by Aborigines when they go wandering. They were a nomadic type of culture and it wasn't unusual for men to go 'Walkabout' to seek further self-discovery. Nowadays I guess we use it more to describe someone who has pissed off without letting you know where they are going (a substitute for AWOL perhaps?) but the Aboriginal healer mentioned above wasn't known to be dead at first because he'd gone 'Walkabout' from his tribe and they expected that he could turn up alive and well in a few months like all the other times.

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**For Ellie: The Ghost Hunt**

**(BPOV)**

The trip of a lifetime, that's what the travel agent called it. This is after he called me odd and tried his best to talk me out of it. Ha. I'd paid my deposit in cash, he could hardly refuse.

"But I don't understand Miss Swan, why would someone as young and beautiful as you want to spend your summer holidays in the remote Australian desert?"

I'd been offended of course. At 23 I'm not that young anymore. I'm certainly old enough to travel by myself. As for beautiful, I'm far too weird and it kind of balances out my physical beauty. Either way, I'm passed over at every awkward social event, and I really don't mind so much. I don't have time for boys. I'm too busy trying to heal the world.

Yes. Heal. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing, and it's the weirdest feeling in the world, but I'm drawn to the spirits of deceased healers and through them, I'm learning. My Grandma was a soul healer and when she passed five years ago I felt something different through my grief. I felt strangely capable. The first time I saw her spirit I passed out cold. Since then I speak to her almost daily and she has taught me so much about her craft. When she started introducing me to other spirits, I learned I could see more than just healers. I could see the healed and I could see the spirits who still needed healing. And best of all, I could help them.

My trip to Australia is to try and find a recently deceased Aboriginal healer. He could hold the key to how to save my Dad's best friend, Harry. His heart problems are becoming worse and worse and nothing so far has worked. If I don't do something soon I hate to think what will happen.

Australia is not what I expected. Sydney was wonderful but as I disembark at the Yulara airport I'm way overdressed and the sweat trickles uncomfortably down my thighs through my jeans. Ugh. My leather boots, which I'd assumed would be perfect for this trip are far too hot and even my toes, are sweating. My best friend, Rosalie, had laughed when I'd told her of my trip. She'd said I was too precious to be traipsing around a desert. I'd laughed at the time, Rosie is so much more the princess than I could ever be, however the tears prick as I worry that maybe she was right.

As I move to lift my luggage off the airport carousel a group of children knock me forward unceremoniously and I end up inadvertently riding the damn carousel. Definitely not what I had intended. I blush furiously as I try to right myself and scramble from the carousel. A strong hand pulls me from the carousel and discards me. I spin around, trying to stand and get my bearings.

A tall, dark and gruff man turns to glare at me. "Now look what you've done, woman! My bags have gone again and I have to wait for them to come all the way around again! If I miss my flight to Finke I will be so… arr." He throws his hands up and stalks off to the start of the carousel.

His words make my heart sink. I'm going to Finke. It's a small aboriginal community with only three white residents. There is only one flight there each month in a super light aircraft and obviously, this is my fellow passenger. I cringe as he shoots me another dark look. Thankfully, my bag came off the carousel when I did and I don't have to wait. I scramble to organise myself and use the bathroom one last time before finding the terminal where our small flight leaves from.

There is no flight attendant, only the pilot and my uh, co-passenger. He remembers me from the carousel. The pilot is friendly and doesn't seem to give the rude stranger the time of day.

"Where are you staying in Finke, miss?"

I smile politely. "I'm camping near the river."

Camping was the only chance I had to assure the ghost of the healer that I was no threat, he won't be expecting me. The rude stranger snorts and turns his head away from us both. The pilot shrugs as if to apologise for the other man's rudeness and I smile to let him know that I don't really care.

Finke was even smaller than I expected. I stopped at the small community store to purchase food, water and collect the camping supplies I'd pre-ordered before meeting the lift I'd arranged to take me out to the river. I'd picked my camping spot very carefully based on everything I could learn about the healing elder. Right down to under which tree I would roll out my swag. Luckily, my father took me camping by rivers often on fishing trips so once I was left alone in the scrub, I felt at ease.

With my camp set up perfectly I retrieved my airplane carryon bag and started to carefully unpack my ghost hunting supplies. I'm not a ghost hunter in the traditional sense, but how else can I communicate with them unless I can find them first? I arrange the little stones to indicate that I am a friendly presence and light a few candles. Hopefully this will draw out the curious spirits and my healer will be among them. I sit peacefully in the middle of my crystal formation and attempt to meditate to pass the time.

An obscene and very unnatural noise interrupts my meditation. I open my eyes in alarm, my first thoughts with my personal safety. Whatever this noise is, its man made, not my spirits.

I focus on the source of the noise, it's across the river from me and I'm a little alarmed as it gets closer and closer to me. Finally a busted up old Toyota Landcruiser pulls into view on the opposite river bank. I sit quietly as the same rude man from the airport stalks around the Landcruiser, pulling out various bags. He's alone and I wonder what on earth he is doing here.

He moves fluently setting up a much more advanced camp site than my own. He seems almost angry in everything he does, and he almost never looks up. Because of this, he hasn't noticed me. When he pulls out a hip flask and takes a long drag, I can't help but snort. A drinker too, in a dry camp. It probably explains his bad attitude. I don't drink at all, it interferes with my ability to communicate with the healing spirits and I take my work very seriously.

At my snort, the man looks up. "WHAT IN THE FUCK?" He drops his hip flask.

I simply cock an eyebrow.

He huffs and goes back to unpacking his camp site. I watch in interest as he unpacks several random non-camping items. When he unpacks a crucifix I cringe a little. Not because I'm religious, but because I fear any spirits will steer clear of it and maybe hurt my chances of meeting my healer. I even consider moving my camp upstream, but I know this is the perfect position.

I watch the stranger for so long that I start having, well, unusual thoughts about him. He's quite muscular, I can see his muscles ripple under his shirt as he works. Plus I felt the strength in his hand as he pulled me from the carousel earlier today. He's tall, but even so I would probably still meet him at shoulder height. He is careful and methodical in everything and when I start to admire his hands I decide I need a distraction. I'm hungry enough for dinner; I'll find something to eat.

Rifling through the food I've collected today I think that maybe the easiest option would be one of the protein bars. I really don't feel like building a campfire tonight.

Footsteps behind me send a shiver down my spine and I whirl around, defensive.

The handsome stranger smirks. "I've finished setting up camp and I thought you might like to share dinner?"

He indicates over to his camp where he has a healthy campfire and when the wind catches it, I smell the unmistakable aroma of campfire steaks. My mouth waters. How the hell did he cross the river though?

I gasp, noticing the river has receded so far that it would only be a large step for me to cross it. The stranger smirks again. "It's a magical place this. Even the rivers have unusual tides. You can cross this river by foot twice a day." He regards me thoughtfully. "You're not from here, are you?"

I try to speak but his eyes mesmerise me and all I can do is open my mouth a few times and shake my head to confirm that no, I'm not from anywhere near here.

"Come and have a decent feed, woman. It gets cold at night, you'll be glad for a full belly later."

Something about his aura lets me know that he means no harm. Plus, I'm super curious about his superstitious paraphernalia. Perhaps if we share a meal I will have a chance to ask him about the crucifix and other weird items around his campsite.

"Long way for a woman to travel just to camp alone." His statement is meant as bait, but I ignore it as he hands me a plate laden with heated tinned vegetables and a generous sized steak.

I don't forget my manners. "Thank you, for dinner."

He once again regards me curiously. "You're a Yank?" He starts to laugh to himself.

"I am not a Yank." I reply indignantly. "I'm from Nebraska, not New York."

He chuckles. "It's all the same to me. Yanks are Yanks. You are all from America."

I bite my tongue. Obviously this is a very ignorant man indeed. I wonder if there is an equal and equivalent Australian insult I could throw at him. My good manners prevail though.

After a few bites of steak, I'm brave enough to ask, "Why have you got a crucifix?"

He chuckles. "I'm a ghost hunter, missy."

My face must reflect my horror. Suddenly all of his little tools make sense. He banishes ghosts, he doesn't learn from them.

"What, are you scared of ghosts? Because if you are I'm telling you now, you're camped in the worst place you could possibly have picked…"

I fade out, hardly hearing him. He's a ghost HUNTER. The only possibly reason I can think that he is in the exact same place as me, is if we are 'hunting' the same ghost. What if he banishes it before I have a chance to learn the healing? This just won't do.

His laughter breaks me from my thoughts. "Oh don't worry too much, I'll deal with it. I'm Garrett by the way." He offers me his hand to shake.

Caught a little off guard I accidentally knock my knife from my plate to the ground as I stumble to my feet to shake his hand. "Bella." I offer.

"What brings you to this lovely river Miss. Bella?" There's a twinkle in his eyes and for a moment I consider fabricating a story. I was never a good liar.

"I'm a ghost hunter too." I whisper.

He bursts into laughter. "Yeah? What do you use to kill them with? All those little rocks you've set up?" He shakes his head and turns his back to me to tend to the dishes "Amateur." I hear him mutter under his breath.

"I am not!" I fire back, indignant. "I'm not cruel like you. I don't banish every spirit I see; I try and learn from them."

He whips around, incredulous. "You want to REASON with a ghost? You're insane, woman!"

"If you bothered to listen to them you would learn so much! I've met so many remarkable healers and when I apply what I've learned it helps others too!" He looks at me like I'm insane.

"They don't belong here, Bella. None of them. It's dangerous to have them among us, meddling in human affairs."

"Some are good." I mutter.

"None are good. They all have somewhere better to be. I don't kill them; I just show them the way."

"You banish them!" I wail. "How can I help the living if you insist on banishing the dead?"

"You are a nut case." He states as if I'm not supposed to find the reference insulting. "Anyway, the tides are rising, if you want to go back to your own camp, now would be a good time."

I'm a little stung by his rudeness until I look over at the river. It's much wider now and I'll be lucky to make the jump back to my side. He has a point. I can't decide if he's rude or blunt or a bit of both, either way, I'd rather be back on my side of the camp.

"Thank you for dinner." I nod politely and make the leap over the water.

I'm woken by tortured wailing screams. I wake with a start and blink a few times in the darkness. Across the river I can see Garrett's campfire is now only smouldering embers. He's sitting beside it with a shot gun. I roll my eyes. Only an imbecile would think you can actually shoot something that's dead.

I focus more on the screams. This is different. Usually the healers approach me peacefully. Most of them have passed away from natural causes and this one is no different. I'd heard of violent spirits, created through violent deaths, but I'd never met any.

Through the darkness I can see light figures moving. Most are aboriginal male spirits and they are definitely the source of the wailing. I'm confused because the healer I seek is elderly and dresses traditionally, these men are wearing jeans and plaid shirts, and they are obviously distressed.

As they approach I start to freak out a little more. There are scores of them; I'm going to be trampled!

"Garrett?" I call out, a little scared.

"Hush. Stay still. It's not you they are after." He calls back softly.

My throat is dry and tight as they continue their approach. I notice they are only on my side of the river and think for a moment that these must be the ghosts Garrett is hunting and he must have known I was on the wrong side of the river. The bastard could have warned me.

I shuffle back towards the trunk of the nearest tree. "What ARE they after?" I squeal as the first man trundles past me, letting out an eerily loud wail.

"Revenge. Always revenge." He moves his gaze from the march to me. "Have you moved? Why the hell have you moved Bella? Stay in that fucking circle of rocks you have, woman!"

I'm shocked by his rudeness once again but I do as I say. "They can get into my circle! It's a healing circle you idiot!" I retort.

"I don't care if they can get in there; I need for you to not get OUT of there. Don't make me say it again!"

I sit huddled in my small circle of completely useless crystal stones as the spirits pass by, taking no notice of me at all and sending shivers up my spine every time they step through me. I focus on the river bank, marvelling at how their footsteps can be so loud and yet there is not a single footstep! I shiver again. These are definitely not the ghosts I am looking for.

"Hush." Garrett yells across to me. I haven't even been making any noise! I look around me and notice the march has stopped. The ghosts have assembled themselves in groups around the river banks on both sides. They are clear of Garrett's camp completely but some are only a few feet away from the edge of my crystal circle. Their wailing intensifies.

"Cover your ears." Garrett instructs from across the river. I think I can handle a little wailing. I don't rush to follow his command and this seems to upset him. "For God's sake, woman. Cover your ears!"

I do as he asks and seemingly satisfied, he begins to work swiftly on something. I watch a little alarmed as he places ear muffs over his own ears. I press my hands to my own ears tighter. He fiddles with something before looking around eagerly.

Huge shots fire out of the earth in the river banks, explosives? The sand and rock of the river bank explodes as the ghosts break out in a fury of movement. I close my eyes as small particles rain down around me; it's even a little hard to breathe.

"Run!"

I'm knocked over as Garrett tries to push and shove me to my feet. I pull my hands off my ears and shout back, "Run where?"

"Here!" He continues to half drag, half carry me up the side of the river bank until we are on higher ground.

Breathless, I bent over, gripping my thighs and trying to force air into my lungs, I still find the energy to shout out. "What the hell was that?"

Garrett looks extremely pleased with himself. "Salt explosives. I reckon I got most of them."

My eyes widen. If he banished all those spirits with salt explosives it is nothing less than genius. I certainly had nothing to learn from them.

"Why did we have to run?" I wonder if maybe the ones he missed have become savage by his attempt to kill their fellows.

"The flooding. They'll flood the river. They always do. The waters had receded too much; it was how I could cross to your side so easily. Soon they'll flood it and then they'll be gone for another year."

"This happens every year?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Every year since they passed. They were on the train see, the old Ghan line ran right across where we were camped. They were workers on the way to the city when the river flooded and washed out the train lines. The town of Finke didn't even exist back then; it was only established years later to rebuild the flooded lines."

"But… wouldn't they have known the tracks would be washed away?"

"How?" Garrett asks. "It was trial and error back then. The train derailed and since it was mostly a freight train, all the passengers were crammed into one carriage. The carriage behind them exploded on impact and almost all passengers died instantly, the survivors wouldn't have lasted long in the scrub anyway."

I'm sad for them and for once I can appreciate Garrett's type of Ghost Hunting. Tonight he put a lot of souls out of their misery and that's got to be a good thing.

"So was this the type of ghost hunting you were expecting?" He teases.

I scoff. "I haven't seen my ghost yet."

"No? You mean you weren't here for the rail workers?"

I shake my head. "No. My ghost only died last year. He was an elder and a healer. He went walkabout around here one day and just never came home. I think he holds the key to saving an old friends life. I doubt I'll see him tonight though." I sigh. "Those explosions probably sent him running for miles."

"Ah. Well. Chin up, you might see him yet." I can tell from his tone that Garrett doesn't take my job very seriously. "Are you hungry? I bought snacks."

Garrett settles back against a tree trunk with his pack and gun and I move to sit beside him. From here I can see the river banks swelling.

"Were they dangerous?" I ask.

"The rail workers? I don't know. Probably. I aim never to find out." He hands me an open can of Pringles, I take a couple and thank him.

"So how long have you been into this healing thing?" He asks. I smile. So I have made him curious after all.

"Almost five years ago. My grandmother passed her talents on to me when she passed away. I'm still very new at it all though." I don't want to talk it up, to be honest I don't really know what I'm doing; I just know that it works. He nods.

"What about you? I mean, how long have you been a ghost hunter?"

He grins. "Since I was born. I come from a long line of them. It's in my blood."

While there are a million questions left unasked, the silence between us is comfortable and at some point we both drop off to sleep, our heads tilted together.

At first I think I'm dreaming, there's an eerie glow around a tree barely a few metres in front of me. I blink a few times and when my eyes focus, I see my Gran motioning for me to join her at the tree. I untangle myself from a snoring Garrett and head towards the tree.

"Hi darling." She greets me with a cool kiss to the cheek.

"Hi Gran." I squeak, always excited to see her.

"That's some man you've got there." She nods towards Garrett and winks.

I giggle, "Gran! He's the most obnoxious man I've ever met and he's certainly not mine."

She simply winks again before leading me behind the tree where an old man sits cross legged grinding powders with blunt sticks.

Awestruck, I sit opposite him, mimicking his pose. I'm not sure how long we sit as he shows me everything I could have possibly needed to know using pictures and diagrams. He seems pleased with my learning and even reaches forward to pat my hands. Gran stands to the side, watching proudly over us both.

Halfway through another intensive diagram, he changes. His eyes fly up, seeking out something in the distance. Gran becomes uneasy too.

"Is everything okay?" I whisper, mostly towards my Gran.

She indicates that I should hush, and I promptly follow her instructions. I try to follow the line of sight of the old healer, my eyes widening when I see what he sees. A group of three rail workers trundle toward us carrying various crude weapons. I can tell almost instantly that these are the men who survived the initial train crash and died of exposure in the following days.

They get close, a little too close. I'm not scared though. The other rail workers walked right through me without harming me earlier tonight; they are only spirits after all.

One of them lashes out at me with his ghost piece of chain. I can feel it whip at me, just like I can feel when my gran kisses my cheek. Only this is not friendly.

In a sudden rush, all three of them go to attack me and I hold my arms up over my face defensively as both Gran and the healer rush to my defence. I'm confused by how much I can feel their attack and I wonder if these are the evil spirits that Garrett believes can actually harm us.

One man secures his chain around my neck and starts to tighten it. I can't breath. I grip at the chain but my fingers grasp air, there's nothing there. My lungs are burning and I can see stars as the supernatural fight around me, two for and three against.

Shots ring out in the night air and after a few moments the pressure around my neck is released. My hands fly to my neck, massaging as I gasp for air.

"Bella! Are you okay?"

Garrett falls to my side and makes a fuss of checking me over. I wince.

"It's okay," He pulls me into an awkward hug. "I got them all."

All? I push away, alarmed. "How many?" I try to ask but my throat is burning.

"What? What's wrong?" He tries desperately to interpret me.

"How many did you shoot?!"

"Geez Bella, of all the things you can worry about right now, this is what you choose?"

I nod, frantic.

"Um. I don't know. An old man, some old woman and a few young men. Maybe three or four? I can't remember exactly."

My wails are loud enough to rival those of the rail workers earlier tonight.

"Shit." Garrett doesn't know what to make of me. "Your Gran. I just shot your Gran?" As the realisation hits him he does his best to apologise. "I'm so sorry Bella. You were dying, I was trying to help. You know she's gone to a better place now, right?" He continues to anxiously apologise until I settle down and nod.

"Thank you for saving my life." I murmur.

"No worries. Any time." He replies, awkwardly. "I really am sorry."

"It's okay." I struggle not to cry again. "She's in a better place. I'm okay with that."

He helps me walk back to the tree we'd been sitting against.

"Did you get to talk to your healer?" He asks, hopefully.

"I did." I manage a small smile.

"Well, that's good." He fiddles with his pack for a bit. "I'm sorry I shot him too. It was really hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys…"

I smile. "It's fine. Thank you Garrett. Without you I'm sure I'd be dead by now. So thank you."

"You're not mad?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm really not."

He sighs in relief. "It's almost dawn; we should see what's left of the camp and get some sleep. Can you walk?"

I stand shakily. "Yes. I think I'm fine."

My camp is almost completely destroyed. Garrett's has escaped almost all damage. He blushes a little. "Okay, maybe I knew where to set up. I probably should have warned you but you seemed like a bit of bitch."

I laugh. "It's okay, if it's any consolation; you seemed like a bit of a prick yourself."

He laughs too. "Share my camp? I promise to be a gentleman."

I smile. I really don't need a lot of persuasion to share anything with this man, but I don't want him to know straight away.

I shrug. "I think I'll do a bit of fishing, you know, unwind a bit. But you sleep if you want."

His eyes widen, surprised. "You fish AND you hunt ghosts? You could be my perfect woman, you know this?"

I laugh and grab the fishing rods I can see from the back of his Landcruiser. I remember Gran's wink and laugh again. "Well, we'll see."

He reaches over my head to help me pull the rods out, brushing my cheek on the way down.

I blush.

He notices.

He sits the rods against the vehicle as I try desperately to get my blush under control. Turning his full attention to me once again he reaches both hands up, one on each of my cheeks.

I'm mesmerised and there is absolutely no way I can control my blush now.

He leans forward, "May I kiss you, lovely Bella."

I lick my dry lips and whisper hoarsely, "Yes."

His kisses are soft and tender. I say kisses because he didn't stop at one. Not even near. He might just be perfect for me after all.

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_**MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR ELLIE!**_


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